the peace that is found within
thanksgiving
relieves the heart of anger
and pain-
as quietly as the wind blows
through leaves
one’s breath, exhaling thanks,
is all the moment you need
let go and let the flow of life,
the knowing of silence,
the silent moment,
release you
Tag: dreaming
nature’s beauty
there’s a dead leaf
that hangs onto this summer
plant;
brown and wilted
it clings
in contrast to the red and pink
flowers growing near-
yet still, through this
transparent death
soft wind quietly blows…
and with rays of sunlight
it dances and glows
how wondrous a transition!
even in death, nature’s
beauty grows
love’s flow
hang me upside down
and see what secrets might fall
out of the pockets
of my soul-
filled now with memories still
unspoken…
and though I long to be free
from this fool’s gold that binds
me so
the wings that would let me fly
are pinned by the heaviness
that the past still holds…
bound now by illusions that weigh me
down
would that i could be the hanged man
and release to gravity that which
blocks love’s flow…
oh what i would give
just to lighten this load! and let my
heart soar into eternity…
sorry i am
i could tell you again
how sorry i am
for the demons that still
walk my dreams
and line my head…
i could tell you again
that you’re not to blame
for all of this
heartache…
that broken pieces of the vase
in which i store my soul
are lying at my feet-
and when you step-
you cut
and bleed…
i could tell you again that i am sorry
for it all….
but i don’t think you can hear me
anymore
a soulful tithe
this breathe of mine
that from these soft lips blows
towards you
is lined with a thousand I love you’s
whispered silently
into night…
and this aged head upon which
the white hair of wisdom flows
has grown old
waiting for your next finger’s
touch
and how your body grows, like stars
lit up by adoring eyes-
this longing is but a sweet and
soulful tithe
to gardens flowers and love’s
goodbyes
spots of time
lost to words that dangle
in the air around my eyes
i pull them one by one
down from the ether
and decide how they fit
together
this puzzle of poetry that haunts
my dreams with color and sound,
defining feeling and thought…
how can these hanging words
understand the utterances
of my heart?
oh wordsworth and your spots of time!
would that I also get trapped within
my own reveries under the
sycamore tree of art! i would lose
myself forever
this wondrous bellow of love
and pain…
of darkness and suffering;
how is this human condition
so clearly marked by a universal
language lingering in the sky?
mighty river’s flow
the tickling of rain, falling
against window glass lines my view
with streaks of fractured light
and broken sound…
the quiet death of suicidal
drops, colliding against clear
but solid- illusion…
how I feel for these lovingly mistaken
falling children of the clouds
oh that they should suffer
at my windowpane
without knowledge of the mistake
they are making in their falling…
and to see the love
my heart holds for you yet the same!
and decide rather to fall through trees
instead onto pane…
so that I might turn from that
which mirrors my descent and land
instead into the mighty river’s flow
violent and exquisite
alone, with just this downpour of
thought- and thunder! breaking the sky!
i am silent and hopeful, as i try to
remain untouched by the rain that falls
in sheets so heavily upon my mind…
and though the violence of this storm
is blinding, i am ready to cleanse the
heart of that which it has long denied!
deny today, i will not, yet find that which
is more useful to my heart, a cleansing touch
of acid rain to rid this chest of
all that was left behind…
these thoughts of you! may they drown
upon the puddles of my spirit
collected within my mind’s eye…
as the thunder clouds that grow within me
clear your essence from my memory
in a most violent and exquisite way
no reserve
Thoughts that from my heart
Drip slowly to the floor
Leave me standing in a puddle
Of tears and pondering
What is the leak that from my
Veins flow- this quiet of time,
That lingers now upon a dirty
Ground waiting for me?
And this smile fastened to my mouth
Would you see the false lips curve
Or kiss the frailty that collects now
At my feet?
Innocence has no reserve
For when this well runs dry,
what will remain to quench
This hurt?
exposed
this burning ball of energy
in the sky hurts my eyes today-
too bright for my heart to
hold,
too hot for my hands…
my mind sweats at the mere thought
of this heat that would light
my dust filled corners
with cleansing fire and expose me…
utterly
the SIBYL'S SONG 